


Chocolate Bars on the Windowsill

by mean_whale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming Out, First War with Voldemort, Frottage, Hopeful Ending, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Marauders Fest 2020, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28595835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mean_whale/pseuds/mean_whale
Summary: Just over a year after his disappearance, Remus unexpectedly returns to James's life.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/James Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50
Collections: Marauders Fest 2020





	Chocolate Bars on the Windowsill

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt** : Melted chocolate bars
> 
> Big thanks to my beta!

There was a hesitant knock on the door, which James found curious because people usually used the doorbell. He wasn’t sure how to feel about the knock that died down just as hesitantly as it had begun. With his wand in hand, he stepped up to the door, took in a deep breath, and opened it.

Embarrassingly, it took him a moment to recognise the young man standing at his doorstep, because even though he still looked the same, he also looked completely different.

“Remus?” he asked, so surprised that he lowered his wand and didn’t even consider asking a security question.

“Hullo, Prongs,” Remus said and smiled, although it was more of a grimace.

James stared at him. Remus’s hair was longer than it used to be, his clothes were worn-out and too big on him, the bags under his eyes were pronounced – and the most glaring difference was the big red scar stretching over his right cheek: from right below his eye, just past the corner of his mouth, ending close to his chin. He was standing there hunched in a way he hadn’t before, and his eyes had lost their lively spark.

“Come in,” James then said and stepped aside.

Remus looked at him as though needing confirmation, then picked up a rucksack James hadn’t noticed earlier, and stepped inside cautiously, carefully avoiding brushing against James. James closed the door slowly to buy himself some time; his thoughts were a whirlwind in his head, his emotions a weird mix of confusion, anger, relief, and joy.

He turned to look at Remus, who was standing there, uncertain and not meeting James’s eyes. His rucksack looked nearly empty.

James gestured towards the sofa and said, “Sit down.”

Remus glanced at him, then shuffled over to the sofa. The way he moved was different too: much more careful, nearly calculated, reserved. It seemed wrong.

“Is Lily home?” Remus asked and sat gingerly on the very edge of the sofa, as though worried that he wasn’t allowed to sit there.

“I assume she is,” James said. “In her own home.”

Remus turned to look at James in question.

“She doesn’t live here anymore,” James clarified. “She hasn’t for nine months. Or ten?”

Remus looked like he was about to ask something, then understanding dawned on him. He watched James for a moment longer before quietly saying, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” James said. “I’m over it. She’s over it. We’ve moved on.”

“I see,” Remus said, still very quietly, and turned his head down. “Why?”

“She got tired of me constantly talking about you,” James said, then bit his lip when Remus flinched and seemed to collapse in on himself. “I’m joking, Remus. I’m sorry. I… We weren’t working out, so we thought it wise to split.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus whispered.

James wasn’t sure what to say, so he blurted out, “Want a cuppa?”

Remus turned to look at him, eyes wide in wonder, and James needed to know where on earth Remus had been for the past year so that he looked like that over a simple cup of tea. Rather than ask, however, he went to the kitchen to prepare the tea, glad for the opportunity to take a moment to himself.

He wondered if he should contact someone. Should he tell Sirius? Dumbledore? But Dumbledore had never seemed worried, so he must have known where Remus was, James now realised. It made him feel resentful; Dumbledore had known how worried they were, how much they feared that Remus was dead, yet he had not seen fit to even hint at knowing where Remus was and that he was alive.

Although, maybe Dumbledore didn’t know. He might have sent Remus somewhere and lost contact. But surely, he would have expressed some worry over it.

James leaned his forehead on the kitchen counter, back curved and arms hanging towards the floor.

Remus had come to him.

Why had Remus come to him?

Granted, maybe he was not the first person Remus was visiting. For all James knew, Remus might have already visited Dumbledore and… and McGonagall and any other member of the Order. James might be the last person Remus was visiting.

He was mildly surprised by the bitterness the thought caused him.

He only raised himself up when the water was boiling. He prepared the tea slowly, suddenly nervous about Remus being there with him.

It had been just over a year.

James shook his head and headed back to the living room, where Remus was still sitting on the edge of the sofa as though afraid that James was going to tell him off for sitting there. James didn’t know what to say, so he handed Remus a cup of tea and sat down with his own.

Remus was looking at his tea almost reverently. His hands were cradling the cup between them, as carefully as one might hold a fragile flower or a baby animal. James watched him from the corner of his eye, unsure of what to say or do. Remus took a sip of his tea, and James decided to focus on his own cup for a moment. For a moment’s respite from the odd reality of feeling uneasy with Remus.

Remus had always felt safe and reliable, understanding and kind to a fault. Maybe, for a brief moment during their second year when they had figured out that Remus was a werewolf, James had felt uneasy, but it had been quickly pushed away by what he had already known about Remus; Remus was so incontestably _good_ that him being a werewolf hadn’t been enough to drastically change James’s perception of him.

He glanced at Remus and froze; Remus was slowly sipping his tea, eyes closed and tears streaming down his face.

James didn’t think he had ever seen Remus cry, except out of extreme pain after a bad full moon. He didn’t know what to do. Was it better not to acknowledge it, let Remus keep his dignity? Did Remus need him to talk to him and… and say something? James had no idea what he would say even if Remus specifically asked him to say something comforting.

Remus sniffled and wiped his face with his sleeve. One hand was still carefully holding his cup. James looked away when Remus opened his eyes. He pretended to be absorbed in his tea, watching the way it rippled as he shifted on the sofa.

Remus placed his presumably empty cup onto the coffee table. He was still moving stiffly, still sitting on the sofa as if ready to leap up the moment his permission to sit there was revoked.

“Don’t you have any questions?” Remus asked.

James hadn’t expected Remus to talk, and he jumped, spilling a drop of tea onto his jeans. It had cooled down considerably, saving him from being burned.

“What questions?” he asked, trying to keep himself from asking about the scar.

Remus turned to look at him with a face of incredulity.

“I mean,” James said, trying to save at least a tiny bit of his own dignity, “if you wanted to talk about it, wouldn’t you just… tell me?”

Remus looked at him without saying a word.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” James then said with a small laugh. “You’re Moony.”

He thought he saw a flash of a smile on Remus’s face, but it was gone so quickly that he couldn’t be certain.

“Well,” James said, when Remus remained quiet. “Would you like to tell me something about… about where you’ve been for the past year or so?”

Remus was still watching him, and it made James’s uneasiness grow. What was Remus looking for? And, more importantly, what was his face telling Remus about what he was thinking?

“How much do you trust Dumbledore?” Remus asked so abruptly that James had to take a moment to properly absorb the words.

He didn’t know what to make of it.

“What,” he stuttered. “What do you mean?”

Remus glanced around the room, eyes stopping on the fireplace for a moment, before looking at the door.

“If I asked you not to tell him I was here,” Remus asked, “would you?”

Remus was staring at the door, and James wondered if it meant he was preparing to leave.

“Of course not,” James said. “If you asked me not to tell him, I wouldn’t tell him. You’re still my friend. My best friend.”

Remus frowned, still staring at the door.

“Are you,” James asked slowly, “asking me not to tell Dumbledore you were here?”

Remus nodded curtly.

“Okay,” James said, then took a moment to think. “Is there a specific reason for that? Would he not like it that you’re visiting?”

Remus glanced at James, and James suddenly had a very bad feeling about whatever it was Remus was about to tell him.

“I’m currently,” Remus said and cleared his throat, “supposed to be in Northern Scotland.”

“I see,” James said, although he obviously did not see. “And… what are you supposed to be doing in Northern Scotland?”

Remus bit his lip. James was already starting to think that he wasn’t going to answer, when he let go of his lip and turned to look at James.

“It’s top secret,” he said.

James nodded, wondering if it meant that Remus wasn’t going to tell him.

“I’m not allowed to tell anyone, Prongs,” Remus said.

There was something desperate in his expression, and James continued not knowing what to say. He nodded, hoping that he might somehow, miraculously even, suddenly understand what Remus was trying to express to him.

“You can’t tell even Padfoot,” Remus said, surprising James.

“Tell him what?” James asked, trying to force his brain to follow Remus’s train of thought. “That you were here?”

“That I was here,” Remus said. “That I’m supposed to be in Scotland with a werewolf pack.”

That gave James pause. He wasn’t sure why it surprised him so; if Dumbledore thought they needed to – what, keep an eye on the werewolves? – contact werewolves, Remus was the natural choice. Maybe James was more surprised by the fact that he had never considered it when he had wondered where Remus had gone.

“Is that where you’ve been all this time?” James asked.

Remus nodded and turned away. James was already starting to think Remus wasn’t going to say anything else, when he said, “I don’t want to do it any longer.”

His voice was quiet and small, and he looked like he was ready to bolt at the slightest reason.

“I can’t keep doing it,” he whispered.

James licked his lips and wished that he knew what Remus needed him to say. Instead, all he could get out was, “Why?”

Remus shook his head and quietly said, “It’s killing me. If I go back, I will lose myself completely."

“Then you shouldn’t go back,” James said.

Remus turned to look at James, eyes wide in disbelief. His lips were slightly parted, as if he had been about to say something. James wondered what he had done wrong during their friendship that had made Remus believe that he would disagree with Remus deserving to stay safe and happy.

Remus blinked a few times, then seemed to shake himself out of the stupor, and he quietly said, “I have nowhere to go.”

“Yes, you do,” James said immediately. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

Remus shook his head and turned away.

“I can’t possibly stay here,” he said. “I need to disappear.”

“Why?” James asked, then thought about what Remus had asked him earlier. “Are you worried Dumbledore will be… displeased? Remus, I’m sure he will understand that you can’t go back. Clearly, it’s not good for your overall well-being.”

James’s eyes found their way back to Remus’s scar, but he bit his lip to keep himself from asking. Remus shook his head again but said nothing.

James did not like the odd squirmy feeling he had in his gut.

“You think that he wouldn’t understand,” James said, now also speaking quietly.

“I’ve tried,” Remus said, but then didn’t continue.

James waited, but Remus remained quiet. Was James supposed to fill in the sentence on his own? What had Remus tried? Had he tried telling Dumbledore that he couldn’t do it? Had Dumbledore not taken it seriously?

James was full of questions and he liked none of them.

“What have you tried?” he finally asked, when Remus remained silent.

Remus glanced at him, but then turned his head away more.

“I told him,” Remus said, voice barely a whisper now, “that I didn’t think I could keep going. But he knows how to convince me to go back, because I’m… You know me. When have I ever known how to say no?”

James felt the need to point out that Remus had said no plenty of times to the Marauders, but he knew it was different.

“Well,” he said and cleared his throat. “I have to say I can’t remember you ever being very good at it.”

“I feel indebted to him,” Remus said.

“Why?”

Remus was quiet for a long time before saying, “I don’t think he realises just how grateful I am that he accepted me into Hogwarts. I never thought I would get to go. Then he just… showed up one day, telling me that I could… that I could… I’ve never felt as normal as I did back then, as I did at Hogwarts.”

James leaned back on the sofa and turned his eyes to the ceiling. He had known, on some level, that Remus getting to go to Hogwarts couldn’t have been straightforward, that it must have been a special arrangement, but he had never really thought about it. He had never realised just how important it had been to Remus. Suddenly, the way Remus had always worked so hard to maintain his grades and stay out of trouble made much more sense.

“I’m sorry,” James said.

Remus turned to look at him, perplexed.

“Why are you apologising?” he asked when James didn’t elaborate.

“I just realised,” James said, “that I never really… I guess I never really cared to think more about it.”

“About what?”

James took a moment to weigh his words before turning his head to look at Remus.

“About,” he said, “how different it was for you to get to go to Hogwarts. I never realised that you could have been forbidden to attend.”

“Oh,” Remus said, cheeks flushing.

James turned his head to properly look at Remus. He didn’t think he had quite realised how much he had missed looking at Remus, just seeing Remus somewhere close-by, until now that Remus was back. His eyes were still blue, his lips were still pink, and he still had the same freckles on his cheeks. His hair was still the same honey brown, but it had gotten longer: it was hiding Remus’s ears almost completely, it was stretching down his nape in enticing swirls.

James leaned forward to place his cup onto the coffee table. It was still half-full.

“You can stay here,” James said. “No, you should stay here. And then we’ll figure something out. But you need somewhere to stay, don’t you? So, stay here.”

Remus watched his face as he spoke. He couldn’t quite meet Remus’s eyes.

“James,” Remus said then. “I know you’re upset with me.”

“No, I’m not,” James started, but Remus cut him off.

“I know you are,” he said. “And for a good reason. I would be upset with you if you suddenly disappeared for a year with no explanation.”

“But you have now explained,” James said. “I… I’m not going to say it makes it all better because nothing can erase the worry and panic and– But at least now I know. Where you were. And that you’re alive.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus said.

“Will you stay?” James asked, finding the courage to look Remus straight in the eye.

Remus thought for a long time, but then he nodded. James couldn’t stop the smile that stretched over his lips. He could hardly believe that after all, Remus trusted him so much.

“We’ll figure things out,” James said. “Together.”

Remus didn’t look convinced, but at least there was a small smile on his face. He looked more relaxed, and James thought that it must have been weighing on him not to know where he was going to go after his visit with James. He wondered if Remus had chosen to visit him in the hopes of getting help.

James hoped that Remus had chosen to visit him because he trusted James to help him.

“What are those?” Remus asked, nodding towards the window.

James turned to look, wondering what it was that had caught Remus’s eye. James didn’t think he had done anything drastic to the flat since Remus had disappeared and Lily had moved out. He had to think for a moment, because he had already started taking their existence for granted, but he eventually realised that Remus must have been referring to the chocolate bars on the windowsill.

“Those are bars of chocolate,” he said, turning back to Remus. “Padfoot and I visited a Muggle confectionery, and I bought you some chocolates.”

Remus was staring at the chocolates, blinking his eyes.

“Of course,” James continued, “then we lost contact with you.”

Remus turned to look at him. James wasn’t sure what Remus’s expression meant exactly.

“I bought them for you,” James said, unable to look directly at Remus any longer, “so it felt wrong to just… I don’t know, give them to someone else or just… eat them myself. And… and I was hopeful that maybe… that maybe if I kept them, you would… you’d return sooner.”

James had to blink rapidly to stop himself from tearing up. Remus was still watching him.

For a long time, it was quiet. Then, Remus quietly asked, “Why are they on the windowsill?”

James laughed, and it sounded horrible and wet. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“I don’t remember,” he said. “They were on the table, originally. I think they were in the way, so I moved them to the windowsill temporarily, except I never moved them back again.”

He put his glasses back on and glanced at Remus, who was still looking at him. It made him feel self-conscious.

“Sorry,” he said. “They’ve probably melted. That window gets most of the sun.”

Remus shook his head.

They were quiet. James gathered all his courage, and eventually turned to look at Remus again. Remus was still watching him, eyes shiny but not exactly teary. James met his gaze, and before he knew what he was doing, he had leaned in and kissed Remus.

Remus’s lips were a bit dry and a bit chapped, but they were still the only lips James wanted to be kissing. He cupped Remus’s cheek with one hand, and then, Remus kissed him back, lifting his hands first to James’s shoulders, then sinking his fingers into James’s hair. James placed his free hand onto Remus’s waist, surprised by how small Remus felt.

James licked over Remus’s lower lip, seeking entry, but it turned out to be a mistake; Remus pulled back with a gasp, letting go of James as if he had burned his hands. He had pulled back far enough to dislodge James’s hand from his cheek, but James’s other hand was still firmly on his waist. Remus’s eyes were wide and his lips were parted, and James really, really wanted to kiss him again.

“Moony?” James asked when Remus said nothing, merely stared at James.

It didn’t make Remus talk. It did, however, make Remus closely study his face with piercing eyes. James was almost worried about what Remus might find.

“Why did you do that?” Remus then asked, voice accusing.

James didn’t know what to say. His hand was still on Remus’s waist and he was carefully keeping it perfectly still so as not to draw Remus’s attention to it. Remus was quickly starting to look upset.

“I wanted to,” James said, just to offer any kind of an explanation. “I just… wanted to.”

Remus frowned at that.

“Why would you want that?” he asked, voice snappy.

James looked at him and took a moment to think. He had never come out to his friends as bisexual because he had always figured he was going to end up with Lily anyway, so they didn’t need to know. However, it seemed that the time had come.

“I just,” he started, but then wasn’t quite sure how to continue.

In his nervousness, he squeezed Remus’s side. Remus quickly pulled away from his hold.

“I wanted to,” James said slowly, “to kiss you because… because I think you’re cute?”

Remus narrowed his eyes. James was worried that Remus was going to tell him he was disgusting, but then he thought about how Remus had kissed him back. That must have meant something. Right?

“You don’t sound very certain,” Remus said.

James could have sighed in relief; if Remus hadn’t immediately said anything negative about James fancying blokes, he was never going to.

“Well,” James said slowly. “I’m not. Very certain. I… Moony, I’ve… I missed you. A lot. And I’m not sure if this sudden urge to kiss you was just that I’ve missed you so much and I… Or if I just… I do think you’re cute.”

He let his voice trail off a bit at the end. His cheeks were burning, and he couldn’t meet Remus’s eyes. He quickly glanced at Remus’s face and saw that Remus was watching him suspiciously.

“I’m sorry,” James said when Remus remained quiet.

“Why?” Remus asked sharply. “Why are you sorry?”

James frowned and took a moment to go over the conversation in his head. What was he not getting?

“I,” he said and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I should have asked. I’m sorry.”

James turned his head so that he could no longer see Remus as clearly in his peripheral vision.

“Are you,” Remus started, then stopped.

James swallowed heavily and tried to think of a place where he could direct Remus. Obviously, Remus was not going to be comfortable staying with him after the kiss, but where could Remus go instead? They could probably trust Sirius to keep the secret, so maybe the best option was to go to him.

“Do you fancy blokes?” Remus asked abruptly.

James whipped his head around so fast that his neck gave an uncomfortable creak. He could only stare at Remus, uncertain why the question had caught him so off guard, when it was the natural question to ask.

He opened and closed his mouth silently a few times before he managed to say in a strangled voice, “I… Yes. Sorry.”

Remus raised his brows at that.

“Why are you apologising?” he asked, then chuckled, and James had no idea what to make of it.

James continued staring at Remus, his cheeks burning, and he wondered exactly how red his face was. The burn had also spread onto his ears.

“Why are you apologising?” Remus repeated when James remained quiet.

James only managed a shrug.

“Well,” Remus said with a pleasant smile that James found wholly inappropriate for the situation at hand, “I guess I haven’t been paying good enough attention. I had no idea.”

James had no idea what his face was doing exactly, but he was sure it accurately reflected the state of befuddlement inside him.

“I do too,” Remus offered.

Oh.

_Oh._

“You,” James managed to stutter out. “You fancy blokes too?”

Remus nodded, looking completely at ease all of a sudden, and James could not understand that.

James was so busy still trying to wrap his head around Remus fancying blokes and being perfectly comfortable after such a confession, that it took him by surprise when Remus leaned closer and pressed their lips together again. James let out a confused sound, but before Remus could pull away, he slipped his hand to the back of Remus’s head to keep him close. Remus shifted even closer.

The kiss was, surprisingly, not desperate or rushed. Remus kissed James as if they had all the time in the world, as if they weren’t best friends who had never had the courage to come out to each other before, as if they weren’t _best friends_ who apparently fancied each other.

Did James fancy Remus?

James had wrapped his free arm around Remus’s waist to pull him against himself. Remus’s tongue was in his mouth, and he was already achingly hard.

It didn’t prove anything, though, did it?

Remus moaned, and James shivered. Remus slipped his hands under James’s shirt. His fingertips were cool as they wandered over the expanse of James’s back, the fingers of one hand teasingly dipping under the waistband of James’s jeans before backing away again. James pulled Remus closer, and Remus’s erection pressed against his hip as Remus straddled his thighs.

James wasn’t entirely sure who took the initiative, but they were both soon fumbling with the fastenings to their trousers, pushing fabric out of the way until their lengths were exposed. Remus rolled his hips so that their erections brushed together, and James threw his head back as he moaned.

James had only ever once been with a bloke, and they had just wanked each other hurriedly; he was completely unprepared to how good it felt when Remus took a hold of both their cocks in one hand. James couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into Remus’s inexplicably slick hand, the feeling of Remus’s hard cock against his own absolutely exquisite, and he knew he was going to come embarrassingly quickly.

Remus was moaning and breathing heavily. They weren’t exactly kissing any longer, but their lips occasionally pressed together as they moved. Remus had one hand in James’s hair, while James had both his hands on Remus’s hips.

Just as he had predicted, James felt his orgasm quickly building up. He would have felt mortified, but judging by the way Remus was moaning and rolling his hips arrhythmically, he was very close as well. In fact, it was Remus who came first.

“Jamie,” he gasped against James’s lips as he released on James’s stomach and the hem of his shirt.

To James’s relief, Remus didn’t slow down his hand, didn’t even stop to let go of his own cock, which must have been getting oversensitive. James came with a quiet groan, head thrown back and eyes tightly closed; although he wished that he could have seen Remus throughout it.

He took a moment to catch his breath before he straightened his head and looked at Remus again.

“Moony,” he said, then pulled Remus into a kiss.

Remus was still holding their softening cocks in his hand, his free hand finding a hold of James’s shirt. James was cupping his cheeks with both hands, feeling the scar against his palm. Their kiss was soft and precious, and James didn’t understand why he had never considered kissing Remus before.

Remus finally let go of their cocks and straightened up a bit. He looked James in the eye for a long time, making James feel somewhat self-conscious.

“I missed you too,” Remus said softly.

Unexpectedly, James teared up at that. He closed his eyes and swallowed, trying his hardest to stop himself from crying.

“Was this okay?” Remus asked.

James nodded, afraid that if he opened his mouth, all he could produce would be a massive sob.

He felt Remus’s fingers against his cheek, their touch gentle as they trailed up to James’s hair. Remus petted him. James focused on the touch until he started feeling less fragile. Then, he slowly opened his eyes.

He hadn’t completely avoided the tears, and his eyelashes were wet. Only now did he also notice that his lenses were smudged. He let go of Remus’s cheeks to take off his glasses. When he realised that he couldn’t reach his wand without dislodging Remus, he placed his glasses onto the coffee table, next to his cold cup of tea. He then leaned back, pulling Remus with him until they were lying down.

He wiped his eyes with his hands before he looked at Remus again. Remus smiled softly. It looked crooked because of the scar, and James reached out to trail it with his fingertips.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked.

“No,” Remus said quietly.

James followed the scar from one end to another again and again.

“Is this,” he asked softly, “a part of why you don’t want to go back?”

Remus nodded. James nodded too.

“How recently,” James started to ask, but then didn’t have the courage to finish.

“Last full moon,” Remus said. “A couple of days ago. I had to do some healing before I could sneak away.”

“Sneak away,” James repeated quietly. “Did they not want you to leave?”

“When you’re with the pack, you are with the pack,” Remus said. “Especially newcomers.”

“Newcomers?” James asked. “I thought you were with the same pack the whole year.”

Remus nodded and said, “They don’t trust easily. They didn’t trust me in particular because it’s so obvious that I’ve been living among wizards. It took nearly five months before I felt it was safe for me to disappear for a moment to send word to Dumbledore.”

“Send word,” James repeated. “Have you not met with Dumbledore at all?”

“I have,” Remus said. “For the first time only four months ago. The second time two months ago. I… I was supposed to meet him today.”

“What?” James asked, perking up. “Isn’t it suspicious if you don’t show up? Will he do something about it?”

“No,” Remus said and shook his head. “He’ll think I couldn’t get away. I’m sure he won’t start suspecting for at least another two months.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t just talk to him?” James asked, touching Remus’s scar again. “I mean, you have this. Surely he will see it’s not good for you.”

Remus looked betrayed, and James wanted to slap himself from insisting.

“I can’t,” Remus said. “I can’t, because before I manage to tell him anything, he’s going to bring up some detail that will make me feel bad about abandoning a mission that could potentially save lives. He doesn’t do it on purpose, that’s just the way he talks, you know how he is.”

“Why do you feel so guilty?” James asked, combing his fingers through Remus’s curls. “You have already done your best. I’m sure that spending a year with the pack was enough.”

“It wasn’t,” Remus whispered. “It wasn’t, because I was supposed to talk to them, get them to our side. They still didn’t trust me.”

“How long do you think it would have taken them to start trusting you?” James asked. “At least a year more? Two? Three? I don’t think it makes sense to have you out there for years for the slight chance that they will change their minds when they really have no reason to do so.”

Remus’s brows had hiked up his forehead as James spoke.

“Since when,” Remus asked, “have you been so passionate about werewolves?”

“Since my best friend turned out to be one,” James said.

Remus looked at him but said nothing. A part of James was worried that he might have accidentally said something offensive, while another part worried that Remus would take his words as patronising.

“I guess you’re right,” Remus said then.

He turned to look towards the window. James wondered if it was to look outside or to look at the chocolates on the windowsill. He regretted leaving them on the windowsill. If he had remembered to move them, they wouldn’t have melted in the sun, and he could now have given them to Remus like he had originally intended.

Although, it would have been different back then, he thought and glanced down to where both their trousers were still open, their pricks out, and their semen all over James’s stomach and shirt.

How much different?

James looked at Remus’s face and how the scar took away absolutely none of his handsomeness. His eyes were illuminated by the sun, his eyelashes were long and thick, and everything about Remus’s face was familiar. Why had James noticed so many details about it before? Did he spend equally much time looking at Sirius or Peter? Was it normal to so intimately know the features of one’s mate?

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what Sirius looked like. How long were his lashes? How thick were his eyebrows? What exact shade was his skin and how red were his lips?

James could vaguely remember the overall shape of Sirius’s face, the way his hair framed it, his straight nose, his grey eyes, and the small scar he had on the side of his chin from the time he had gotten a very stubborn pimple and tried drastic measures to get rid of it. James had no idea how long or thick his eyelashes were – he couldn’t remember the exact shape of his eyes, even.

James thought about Remus’s face and could clearly see it in his mind. Was it just because he had looked at Remus mere seconds earlier, or had he really paid so much attention that he had learned the details of it?

“What are you thinking about?” Remus asked.

James opened his eyes.

“Your face,” he said.

Remus’s smile disappeared and he turned his head so that his scar was less prominently visible.

"Your face is so familiar,” James hurried to explain. “It’s so comforting to see you.”

He slowly reached out to cup Remus’s cheek and turn his head back the way it had been. He let go, trailed a finger over the scar, then down to Remus’s chin, then over his lips. Remus leaned forward and kissed James, who moved his hand to the side of Remus’s neck.

“What does this mean?” Remus muttered against James’s lips.

“I don’t know,” James said and took a moment to kiss Remus again. “I like kissing you, though."

Remus chuckled and shifted. James could feel his flaccid prick against his bare belly.

“I don’t think,” Remus said quietly, “it would be fair to you to try a relationship right now.”

“How come?” James asked. “How would it be unfair to me?”

Remus’s eyes trailed over the room, then stopped on the window again.

“I’m not sure,” he said slowly, “if I can… It’s been such a stressful year, Prongs, and I’ve missed you all so much and I’m… I’m just happy to be back.”

“Are you worried,” James asked, “that you only liked kissing me because you’re so glad to be back?”

Remus shook his head, his eyes still focused on the window – or the chocolates.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, James,” Remus said. “I just don’t know… It’s different to be here now. Because I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

James tried to remember a time when Remus would have either had difficulties knowing what to do or when he would have volunteered that he was uncertain. Remus was very good at pretending to know everything: so good, in fact, that James was never quite certain if he was ever pretending in the first place. Maybe Remus just knew everything.

“Well,” James said. “You’ll stay with me, so you no longer need to worry about that. You can take your time figuring out what you want to do about everything else.”

“What should I do?” Remus whispered.

James placed his hands onto Remus’s hips, unsure what he was trying to communicate with it. He didn’t exactly know what he wanted himself.

“You should do,” James said, “whatever it is that will be best for you. You can’t possibly sacrifice your health, maybe even your life, just to make other people happy.”

“But we’re at war,” Remus said.

“And you have already done a lot,” James pointed out and squeezed Remus’s hips softly. “You have already given a year of your life trying to change things. You have done enough.”

Remus shook his head.

“You deserve a break,” James firmly told him. “You deserve to rest and have the chance to be yourself again.”

Remus turned to look at him but said nothing. They were both quiet. Then, Remus lowered himself over James and buried his face into the crook of his neck. James let go of his hips to wrap his arms around him properly.

Remus was warm, a pleasant weight on top of James. They lay there, clinging to each other. Remus’s breathing evened out, his muscles relaxed, and as James listened to him sleep, he eventually drifted off himself.

Life was uncertain, but at least Remus was finally home.

**Author's Note:**

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